


A Little Extra Space

by MistCover



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Love, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-08 18:04:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1135770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistCover/pseuds/MistCover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard being pregnant in an interspecies homosexual relationship. There are choices to be made, compromises to be had, and a whole host of friends to deal with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no no no no. This isn’t something that can be happening. 

Your name is Rose Lalonde, and your life has just gone completely out of hand. You stare down at the thin, white stick again displaying the dual pink lines that let you know, in no uncertain terms, that you have completely lost your mind. That your life has suddenly and inexplicably become the center of a bad soap opera. You take a deep breath. And then another. And then another, just for good measure. There is no way this is going to happen. You cannot be a mother, much less admit to Kanaya that... fuck, Kanaya. She’s downstairs, you can hear her shuffling around, probably fussing with something or another, some invisible imperfection in the arrangement of your shared furniture. 

You have to get rid of it. The noble thing to do would be to admit to your girlfriend what is happening, tell her that you are carrying, that this happened and now you’re going to go and take care of it. So to speak. Keeping the child obviously cannot be an option. Absolutely not. You don’t even have a spare bedroom in your house! Your stomach lurches and you brace yourself on the counter, feeling a wave of dizzy sickness wash over you, part guilt and part symptom, sending you stumbling down onto the tiled floor. Last night’s wine glass lays on its side by the tub, fragile and pink tinted and reflecting the light directly into your eyes. Last night you had been blissfully ignorant, drinking and sitting in your tub and wondering why your period hadn’t arrived yet. It wasn’t until this morning that the dots- the sickly, sensitive, and overdue dots- connected. Can’t wine hurt it? Why would you be worried about hurting it? It’s not like its illegal squatting in your uterus is going to be tolerated. Eviction is coming, and you’re not going to shed a single tear when it does, no, you are going to simply fix this and allow your life to continue on. 

The less noble thing to do would be to have it removed on your own. Without telling Kanaya. You can blame the surgery on a cyst or simply not explain it at all, disappear for a day and come back and force yourself to pretend everything is fine. She would never have to know about this, ever. Sparing her the pain would be the kinder thing to do. Especially someone as maternal as her, someone who worked for years to try to bring back her dying species only to find it revived for her on a strange and new planet. Someone who would leap at the chance to have a child of her own. She’s so caring to every young creature you have ever seen, so kind and gentle. You can’t tell her about this. You can’t let her go through the heartbreak of knowing it was there. 

You cannot be a mother. 

“Rose?” You wince. Of course she would come. You knew she would come, but now she’s here and you are ill prepared. “Rose sweetheart are you well?” She sounds actually worried. Well, who wouldn’t be, you’ve been vomiting for the past week. Surely she thinks you must have collapsed from dehydration, or exhaustion, or both. That she will open the door and find you face down, barely breathing but still alive, and she will rush you to the emergency room where you will be revived but at the cost of the fetus. Wouldn’t that be nice, if some quirk of your physiology made it so you couldn’t carry this, that you were somehow going to claw your way out of this mess. “I am coming in,” she says, the door opening. You shove the test in your pajama pocket, seeing her slip in to the room with you. Her eyes are wide, concerned, her upper fangs kneading her lip. 

“I’m fine, Kanaya.” You offer a smile, walking up to her and wrapping your arms around her midsection. “I’m absolutely fine.”

“You’ve been so sick we really need to take you in to the doctor, surely they will have something you can take, a medication to at least stop the expulsions.” Her voice tics up in pitch and you shush her, kissing her collarbones one at a time. 

“It’s nothing. It’s just a flu.” Just a flu. God, you wish it was just a flu. You would pay good, good money to have it be nothing more than an ordinary, if hellish, flu. You take a moment, considering. “If I went to the doctor tomorrow, would that ease your worry?” 

“I work tomorrow I could not go with you.” She taps along your spine, her fingers playing a frantic tune against your shirt. “If it is serious I want to be there.”

“You are worrying too much. It is nothing serious, I am almost entirely assured of it. And if it was, by some strange and horrible twist of fate, then surely you would like me to go sooner rather than waiting for you to have a day off?” That’s a bad ploy but it seems to work, your love stiffening against you, her muscles gone taunt and ready to pounce.

“That is a very good point.” Thank God. She bought it. “You will tell me what it is?” She’s tugging you closer and you push her away to look her in the eyes. Jade green has just begun to fill in the black, her irises mottled and shifting every day. It’s beautiful. She is beautiful. You owe it to her to tell her what’s wrong. You owe it to her to explain what has happened, what is happening. What it means for the two of you, going forward. What the options are. She deserves to, at the very least, know, if not help you form a decision. You should tell her, right now. Open your mouth and admit it. 

“Of course I will, once I know. Why wouldn’t I?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm adding a donate page on my blog because of long and boring reasons. If you enjoy my writing, and if you have a buck to spare, maybe consider throwing it to me? Please do not feel obligated and please do not send me money you need if your finances are tight!
> 
> The page is grimdarkthroes.tumblr.com/donate
> 
> If I get enough, I'll use some of the money to illustrate this fic!
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading! :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets can't stay secret forever.

You go to your gynecologist the next day, calling and saying that it was actually quite important and could not, in fact, wait, being rushed into an appointment in the afternoon. The doctor confirms it, taking blood to test your hormone levels and calling with the “good news.” She called it good news, anyways. You mostly just sank a little further, the bile in your gut reaching critical levels. With that phone call goes the last of your hope, thinking maybe you got a false positive on a cheap drug store pregnancy test. No, this is real. There is, beyond any doubt, a developing organism inside of you that is making your body go haywire, knocking you down at every turn. Not for long, you remind yourself.

You have to tell her, tell Kanaya. You have to. You have to. There’s no choice about it! To that end, the rest of your week is spent doing the most logical and well thought out thing you can do when confronted with this sort of uncertainty and guilt. 

Avoiding Kanaya like the plague. She doesn’t notice, at first, her work keeping her busy for the first day or three, you always having something you need to do when she comes home. You told her it was a flu, that the doctor said that all you need is rest and fluids. And you stayed away. You don’t have infinite time, though. You can’t wait forever if you’re going to tell her and you can’t wait forever if you are honestly, really and truly going to terminate this pregnancy. Later, however, she begins to pick up on something being wrong. She makes a point to catch you at dinner, to talk to you before you can roll over and go to sleep at bedtime. She asks what’s wrong and you lie and just say you feel ill. Which isn’t a lie, technically, but it definitely isn’t the full truth.

It’s over breakfast on Monday, five days after you found out, that the dam breaks. Kanaya is sipping tea, reading something on her laptop and looking completely unconcerned with the world. You are sweating bullets, your jaw clenched and your hands keeping your mug in a vice grip. Eating and you still aren’t getting along. Your girlfriend is pushing for you to be hospitalized, which is a reasonable course of action when the woman you love is being held down by some mystery illness that doesn’t seem to fade. Something has to give. You have to tell her.

“Kanaya can we talk?” You say it fast, too fast. She looks at you, one brow quirking, and closes the lid of her laptop.

“We can always talk.” She reaches a hand across the table, palm up. You don’t take it.

“I don’t have a flu.” Slow and steady, Rose. You have this. You can do this. Your heart pounds, and you take a sip of tea, trying to force yourself to calm down. 

“What is it?” Her face goes from mildly worried to full on panic, eyes widening and eyebrows knitting together. “Is it serious?”

“Yes.” You can do it you can do it. “It is serious.” A long moment passes between the two of you, the air thick and your hands shaking. “I’m pregnant.” She tilts her head, squints, tilts back, smiles, stops smiling, and opens her mouth, trying to speak.

“I was under the impression that our species cannot reproduce.” Something lights in her eyes. Is it... hope? Are you actually giving her hope? No, Kanaya, you don’t understand, please do not think this is a miracle of even a good thing. Please don’t get hopeful.

“As far as I know, we can’t.” You put your mug down, holding your hands together tight on the table. 

“If we could, wouldn’t it have happened a long time ago? What changed? How is it possible that you are carrying a hybrid child in your odd reproductive system Trolls don’t even use their own kind to reproduce there is no way you are actually pregnant Rose you cannot reproduce with my species-”

“I can reproduce with mine!” You nearly shout. Fuck. Stay calm. The cards are on the table now. You watch her, watch her reaction. In a few seconds her face goes from confused to hopeful to confused again to understanding to furious to the most dismayed face you have ever seen on anyone of any species. This is it, then. This is it. There’s no way to go back now. “My plan is to abort it. You deserved to know.”

She almost says something, you can see it on the edge of her lips, her mouth open. Here it comes, the retribution you so fully and completely deserve. She pushes away from the table, the chair squeaking across the floor. She stands up and tries to speak again, no sound coming from her besides her breathing. Her hands curl into fists, her shoulders tightening under her shirt, her lip curling into a half-suppressed snarl. She closes her mouth. Opens it. Closes it again. 

“Tell me.” She swallows, her fists clenching and unclenching. “That you didn’t.” You want to run, you feel glued to your seat, unable to make a single move. 

“I’m sorry.” What else are you supposed to say? What else could you possibly say? There’s no excuses, no factors that lesson the blow. 

“When.” Her voice is hard and flat, tinted with a growl. You know that voice. You've never heard it used at you before. You never thought Kanaya could hate you.

“Four weeks ago.” You know exactly. You have to. The circumstances bubble up in your mind, the exact moments that lead up to the decision- your decision- to destroy your relationship from the inside out. Sure, you could argue your side, but it doesn’t really matter, does it? Nothing could mitigate this. You take a breath and then it’s coming out of you, all at once, uncontrolled and messy. “I was drunk and remember you were absent for a couple weeks, I don’t remember much but I do remember coming home with-”

“Stop.” She doesn’t budge an inch. She doesn’t hold out a hand to physically stop you, she doesn’t try to make a move. “I think you should go.” You nod. You stand up from your seat, shaking. You take a couple lurching steps forward, staying as far from her as possible before ascending the stairs up two at a time and locking yourself in the master bathroom. Downstairs, you hear a thud, followed by a noise you have never heard before, a keen that sounds too high to be made by any living creature and too pained to be anything but a dying shriek, a death knell for the wounded. A few seconds later, a door creaks open and slams shut, and you are well and truly isolated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been incredibly fun to write, so thank you for reading! :)  
> Conception was 4 weeks ago, which makes Rose 6 weeks along now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mothering instincts come out to play, and silences are broken.

You don’t manage to speak to one another for the rest of the day. In fact, you barely manage to leave the bathroom, only coming out for quick excursions to the kitchen for food, and a cup for water. Something about sitting on the cold tile, dizzy and sick, feels fitting. It feels like an accurate punishment for your infidelity. Occasionally, you can hear Kanaya downstairs, pacing your home. She cries. She cries the entire day, in between fits of growling anger that make you huddle a little closer to yourself, knees pressed tight tight tight to your chest. That anger couldn’t be lashed out at you, right? Even if you fully and completely deserve it. 

Bedtime rolls around, or more accurately, the time when your eyelids begin to feel heavy, your thoughts coming slowly, as there is a lack of clocks in this room, the sky outside dark and heavy with stars. You stand, trying to weigh your options. Ever since you moved in together, you and Kanaya have shared a bed. It helps with both of your nightmares when you can cling to the other for safety. It helps with nighttime thoughts and feelings, the dark, brooding places both of you are prone to go to. And, simply put, it just feels good to sleep curled and tied and wrapped around the woman you love more than anything else in the world, who you have to been through everything with, whose warmth is better than any blanket could ever provide. A pang hits you at the thought of losing that, losing the one thing that made night pleasant for you. Another deserved punishment. 

It would be nicer of you to let her have the bed. You can probably get some sleep on the couch. You can probably make a nest there, scrounge spare blankets and find a way to make it warm enough for rest. It would also mean that your girlfriend (if she still is your girlfriend, in the morning) would walk in on you when she woke up, that you would be forcing her to look at you. Would that really be nicer? Sleeping on your bed would mean exiling her to the couch but it would also mean she could steadfastly continue to avoid you, that she doesn’t have to even acknowledge your existence. You’re going to have to find somewhere else to stay- maybe Dave’s? At least until everything is blown over and finished. You can terminate the pregnancy and come back home and try to mend things with her, try to make things work again, if she will still have you. Which is an irrational hope- Kanaya, continuing to be with you despite what you’ve done? And this plan hinges on Dave actually taking you in for a week or two, after he learns what happened. It’s completely irrational. It’s completely absurd.

It’s your plan. You stand, bracing yourself on the counter. As you rise, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You look, frankly, like a train hit you, dark circles under puffy eyes, a face flushed and sweaty and red, your hair lank and unkempt. Aren’t pregnant women supposed to be glowing? Are you too early in the process for that to be happening? Everyone talks about how beautiful they feel during their pregnancy, how divine, but mostly you just feel bloated, and ill, and tired. Gods, why was Kanaya ever with you in the first place? You open the door to your bedroom and she’s there, she’s sitting up on the bed, her neck supported with one of your decorative throw pillows, her eyes darting over a book, like nothing was wrong. Like nothing had changed. Besides the obvious tear stains on her cheeks and her hard expression, she looks like every other night you’ve been with her, attached to her routine until the very bitter end. 

You open your mouth, and then close it, walking past her to the linen closet and pulling out blankets. Don’t acknowledge her. Pretend you don’t see her there. It looks like it will be the couch for you, after all. She seems to have made her stake in the bed, and you intend to give it to her. 

“Why are you removing the extra bedding?” She says, voice artificially calm. You jump, nearly dropping your sheets in the process. “Are you cold?”

“I was planning on taking my repose on the couch.” That came out more snarky than you would have liked. 

“That is a foolish plan. You need back support.” You want to correct her- you don’t, and even if you did that would be at the end of this mess, assuming that you continue to gestate this fetus. “Come to bed.” Is this some kind of passive aggressive bid? Her demand makes almost no sense- why would she want to share a bed with you?

“... If you insist.” You push the blankets back in the closet, slowly winding across the room to slip under the sheets, staying as far away from her as is possible, facing the opposite direction. Laying on the absolute edge of the mattress isn’t exactly comfortable, but you’ll figure it out. It’s to keep her happy, after all. Her request was so bizarre you can’t imagine this isn’t what she meant, you technically on the bed with her if far, far away.

She takes a deep breath. You can hear her pushing air hard out her nose. “I am assuming you are well aware on my thoughts on motherhood,” she begins, her words enunciated precisely, crisply, each carefully considered before spoken. “That there is nothing I would like more than a chance to rear a young one of my own.” You wait, not making a move to get closer to her, even when you feel her shift and scoot closer to you. “I want this child.” You tense, trying to parse her words. Does she simply want you to act as an incubator for it, hand it to her so she can be rid of you sooner? That would be cruel, even for a troll, even for a troll who would do anything for a child. Reducing you to your uterus is something you would expect from a politician, not from your girlfriend. Not from her. 

“I do not think I would be comfortable simply handing you the child,” you say, very slowly. “In fact, I am not entirely comfortable with carrying this at all.” You turn to face her and she is uncomfortably close, looking at you but past you, almost as if you were now just another piece of furniture. Maybe you’re being paranoid. Pull it together, Rose. It is a long, tense minute before she replies, the air between you heavy and thick.

“We would raise it together.” Her voice wavers for half a second before she snaps it back in place. So this is her plan? Raise your drunken mistake child as a family, pretend it’s okay? 

“We could try again, with donated sperm. We could adopt. This isn’t our only chance at having a family, if it is so important to you that we do.” Her eyes flash something. Anger? Pain? Regret? Probably a combination of all three.

“Right now we have this child.” She leans over you, fangs flashing in the dim light of the room, before she presses her pursed lips to your head. “This could work. We could stay together and raise the child together and be a family.” The deal, then, being that she will stay with you in exchange for the baby. That you can keep her if you have this child. Isn’t that right? Your body as a vessel for a desperately wanted baby in exchange for your relationship, the one you have poured years of your life into. Who will ever love you like she does again? How could you ever form a connection that is anywhere as deep as this one? You falter, trying to collect your thoughts before letting them all tumble out of you.

“Perhaps you are unaware as you were reared by a member of a species that was not your own, but having a child is actually a difficult and drastically transformative operation, which, in your haste at attempting to accept the state I have found myself in, you may have overlooked. I am not saying that we could never have a child, but the level of care and upkeep even a single child requires is astronomical and we are simply-”

“Rose.” She stops you, putting her finger on your lips. “I understand what you are saying.” A beat. “I want this child. I want this child because I want this relationship to become our family.” Well, there it is, no longer even slightly thinly veiled, no longer between the lines. She wants this child because otherwise you won’t be together anymore, apparently. Your relationship or the baby. The love of your life, the woman you are prepared to lay down your life for, or a child. Maybe you’re being paranoid, maybe that’s not what she meant, but it hardly matters because that’s what she said. Isn’t it?

“Okay.” You bite your cheek, feeling no doubt as those tragic heroines do as they prepare to sign the paperwork to take away their soul, the proverbial devil twirling his mustache and eagerly awaiting her signature. “Okay. Yes. Let’s have this child.” She grabs you, and you’re being pulled to the center of the bed, crushed in her arms. “Kanaya, I’m still quite nauseous, that part wasn’t a lie.” She relaxes her grip and you can feel wet on your hair, her tears dripping on your scalp. 

Okay. You’re having this child. You have a scant few months before you are going to have a child. This will be fine. Kanaya cries silently and you rub her back, trying to make sense of what just happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very small reminder I still have a "donate" page open and available, should you choose to use it.
> 
> Thank you, again, for reading! It's been a pleasure to write. Please do let me know what you think, if you want to! :D You can always come talk to me on my blog or what have you, this has been a ton of fun to discuss with people.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning sickness can bring down even the most determined Lalonde.

For the next week, Kanaya wakes you up every morning by kissing low on your belly, where you are still flat and unassuming. Camouflaged from the world, the being inside of you too small to be detectable to anything but high powered machines through layers of your skin and your fat and your muscle. 

“Good morning, love,” she says to your stomach. She takes a few minutes- thinking you are still asleep- to do nothing but praise her (your) child, tell it that it’s doing very well, albeit in the most vague approximations you have ever heard. Affirmations of ‘you are surely receiving adequate nutrition’ and ‘continue to expand and contract your blood pusher’ almost break your false sleep, make you giggle under your breath. She loves it so much, and she hasn’t even met it. She hasn’t had a chance to know it.

“Morning, Kanaya.” You prop yourself up with pillows, staying mostly reclined. This is better- here you don’t feel ridiculously sick. You can rest, a little. 

“Good morning Rose I will get you breakfast.” You open your mouth to protest but she is already gone, wandered off to make you a meal. This is your routine now. Wake up, eat breakfast in bed, and spend all day studiously avoiding the subject of the father. Avoiding your mistakes. It’s not as though you blame her for not being keen to discuss it. You don’t want to, either, and you’re the one gestating the thing. Baby. You need to keep correcting yourself, alone with your thoughts. It still feels like alone, anyways, with no signs of life coming from you besides your own, no tells that would clue anyone in to the presence of the infant. Sooner or later, however, you will be less inconspicuous, more readily identifiable as a pregnant woman. You don’t really look forward to the day. Maybe you’ll lock yourself in your house and only emerge once the child is born, surprising everyone. Where were you the last few months, they’d ask. Oh, nowhere, I was just gestating and then birthing this baby. Isn’t that what deeply religious women did when they had children out of wedlock? “Toast and jam and tea.” Kanaya’s voice breaks your train of thought, a tray sliding down and across your lap. The smell makes your stomach roll. 

“Thank you but I am not feeling particularly well enough to eat,” you reply. Isn’t the poorly-named morning sickness supposed to fade after the first few weeks? Surely by now you're far enough along for it to count! You are growing tired of living with a constant background of queasy sickness that lurches and rolls over you in unsteady waves. 

“The infant needs food,” Kanaya says, sitting next to you and giving you a warm smile. It doesn’t touch her eyes. “Eat.” 

“Eating for two is a misnomer, you know. I’m sure it will be fine if I do not-”

“Rose do not argue with me on this.” She looks to the tray, then back at you. You bite back a sigh and an eye roll and sip the tea, trying to settle your stomach sufficiently to eat properly. Kanaya gives you a smile, leaning over and kissing your cheek. 

A few minutes of her stern encouragement and willpower later and you’ve eaten most of the food, drunk just over half of your tea. And then immediately stand up, stumble to the bathroom, and vomit it all out. The acrid smell makes your eyes water, standing up to rinse your mouth out in the sink. Kanaya is hovering in the doorway, her arms folded across her stomach. Once you’ve rinsed, she walks over to you, gently touches your shoulders. It’s not really massaging them, it’s more just reminding you she’s there, just light, fleeting presses of fingertips to skin. 

“Perhaps I do not know enough on the matter of human pregnancy,” she says, gently guiding you back to bed. With soft but confident touches, she gets you back into bed, tucks the blankets in around you. “I do not want to make you expel your food and yet that seems to be all I am capable of doing.” You do not want to harm to the baby, you counter internally. 

“Generally violent illness is an early stage pregnancy symptom that passes within the first few weeks,” you begin, closing your eyes and leaning back against the headrest. “Mine seems particularly hash but I really have no yardstick by which to measure this.” Your girlfriend nods, taking your hand and placing her other on your stomach. You would tell her to take them off, that there’s nothing to feel, but it’s practically become her standard default for her hands, now. “If you have additional inquiries, please do feel free to ask them.”

“I have no idea what is happening to you,” she admits. “It is all new.” Well, that’s not surprising. She is an alien species, after all. “How will you get the child adequate nutrition if you cannot eat?”

“By eating when I can. I believe there are a complement of vitamins I should be taking but I have not-”

“Then let us go to the grocery right now.” She stands, getting ready to dress for the day, peeling off her nightgown. “If they need something to develop normally we would be horrible not to provide for them.”

“I’m sure it won’t mind too terribly.” You resist the urge to roll your eyes, laying all the way back down in bed. 

“Are you not feeling well?” She asks, by your side again, her hands fluttering over your body. She’s dressed already? That was quick.

“Not particularly.” And you’re not. Of course you’d be one to get the world’s worst case of morning sickness. There was no way you were escaping that.

“Then I will go for you.” You are going to protest- taking multivitamins doesn’t exactly sound fun, and you know she’s going to simply grab an employee and ask what ‘pregnant human women’ need to take. It’s going to be an exercise in humiliation for everyone involved. It’s not worth it, the journey or the objection- she’s set in her determination to make this fetus the healthiest fetus possible.

You are going to protest but she shakes her head at you, forcing you back down on the cushions with a press of her hand. “Rose, allow me to do this.” She says it with finality, walking away from the bed and shutting the door to the bedroom behind her. You collapse, sighing, and resign yourself to your book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading! Comments are always, always welcome here or on my tumblr!!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> News spreads like wildfire.

\-- grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 14:13 --  
GA: Karkat May We Talk  
CG: I HAVE A MINUTE.  
GA: How Much Do You Know About Human Reproduction  
CG: WHAT, WHY? WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU ASK ME YOU’RE THE ONE IN STICKY REDROM WITH ONE.  
GA: Please Just Answer The Question  
CG: I KNOW ENOUGH.   
GA: Rose Is Pregnant  
CG: YOU’RE SHITTING ME. YOU HAVE JUST WALKED UP TO ME AND RELEASED AN ENTIRE LOAD OF WORD SLIME ONTO MY CHEST, COVERING ME WITH YOUR MESS AND EXPECTING ME TO BELIEVE YOU WHEN YOU SAID IT WAS AN INVISIBLE PURR BEAST.  
CG: GODDAMNIT. HOW?  
GA: I Thought You Just Claimed To Know About Human Reproduction  
CG: I DO, FUCK YOU. BUT HOW DID YOU MANAGE TO GET IN THIS SCREAMING VORTEX OF COMPLICATED MATING RITUALS.   
GA: I Didnt  
CG: WHAT.  
GA: The Child Is Not Genetically Mine  
CG: KANAYA, WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?  
GA: I Am Saying That My Matesprit Was Apparently Dissatisfied And Committed An Act Of Infidelity And Is Now Human Pregnant  
CG: THAT’S ROUGH. I’M SORRY.  
GA: I Am Aware  
GA: Can We Please Keep This Between Us  
CG: YEAH NO PROBLEM.   
GA: Thanks  
\-- grimAuxiliatrix [GA] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 14:41 --  


 

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG] at 14:42 --  
CG: DAVE. CAN YOU STOP COMPOSING YOUR CRIMES AGAINST RAP AND LISTEN TO ME FOR A SECOND?  
CG: IT’S IMPORTANT.  
TG: what   
TG: what is it lassie  
TG: did little timmy fall down the well  
TG: tell us  
CG: ROSE IS PREGNANT.  
TG: oh shit   
TG: really  
TG: what  
TG: i didnt know trolls and humans could do the nasty  
TG: shit i mean they can do the nasty  
TG: but like  
TG: the baby makin mambo  
TG: the infant insertion  
TG: fetus festival  
CG: WE CAN’T.  
TG: hahaha good one   
TG: right i mean what else would put rose in the family way  
CG: DAVE? DAVE ARE YOU THERE OR HAS THIS INFORMATION FIRED YOUR DELICATE, GELATINOUS THINK PAN?  
\-- turntechGodhead is now an idle chum!!! --  
TG: holy shit  
TG: youre saying rose fucked a dude  
TG: like willingly rose   
TG: fucked a dude  
TG: a human male  
TG: a penis  
TG: baby batter blaster  
CG: SHUT YOUR FUCKING TRAP.  
CG: I WANT YOU TO LISTEN VERY CAREFULLY TO ME.  
CG: KANAYA’S PRETTY BEAT UP ABOUT IT, OKAY?  
CG: SO WE REALLY SHOULDN’T GO AROUND REMINDING HER THAT HER GIRLFRIEND IS APPARENTLY THE SHIT RULER OF FUCK KINGDOM, LEADER OF THE INCOMPETENT DOUCHENOZZLES WHO TOIL THE FIELDS.   
TG: did you just call my sister a whore  
CG: WHAT ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO CALL HER? MAYBE YOU DON’T QUITE COMPREHEND THE SEVERITY OF THE SITUATION WE ARE DEALING WITH.  
CG: THERE’S A DISGUSTING, SCREAMING BABY ON THE WAY THAT APPARENTLY IS BORN OF BAD CHOICES AND WINE. WHICH IS CAUSING KANAYA TO ALTERNATIVELY FREAK HER SHIT OR NEST.   
TG: right but  
TG: were still talking about rose right  
TG: lets not get too hasty here  
TG: are we sure this isnt a hybrid  
TG: little screaming freak of nature  
TG: did we get an ultrasound  
TG: is there some kind of test  
TG: oh weve tested positive  
TG: kanaya you are the father  
TG: the crowd begins to scream  
TG: someone weeps  
TG: music blasts throughout the sound stage  
CG: ROSE CONFIRMED IT.  
TG: fuck me   
TG: did she  
TG: she up and admitted to cheating on her xenohomo girlfriend  
TG: well spank my ass and call me a toilet seat  
TG: shes a whore  
TG: ladies and gentlemen it is a miracle  
TG: or like  
TG: whatever the opposite of a miracle is  
TG: an anti-miracle  
TG: shit wheres the clown when you need him  
CG: CAN WE NOT DO THIS RIGHT NOW?  
TG: do what  
CG: THE WHOLE TANGENT THING. I JUST WANTED TO LET YOU KNOW WHAT WAS HAPPENING.  
CG: MAYBE YOU COULD GO TALK TO HER, SEE IF YOU CAN DRILL A SPECK OF SENSE INTO HER SHRIVELED EXCUSE FOR A THINKPAN.   
TG: nah  
CG: WHAT?  
TG: nah  
CG: YOUR CALL.   
CG: PESTER ME LATER.   
TG: yeah sure  
CG: DAVE, ONE SECOND.  
CG: KEEP THIS TRAIN WRECK OF A REVELATION BETWEEN US.  
TG: yup  
\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG]  at 15:33 --  


 

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG] at 15:35 --  
TG: roxy lalonde   
TG: roxy fuckin lalonde come in do you read  
TG: do you read me roxy  
TG: are you there   
TG: ground control to major rox  
TG: whaaaaaaat?  
TG: omg dont get ur panties in a twist  
TG: we have a situation  
TG: everything ok  
TG: no  
TG: not at fucking all  
TG: whats wrong bb  
TG: rose is knocked up  
TG: wtf  
TG: ur fucking kidding me  
TG: r u pulling my leg  
TG: no  
TG: i am not  
TG: rose fucked a dude and now shes preggers  
TG: and kanaya is apparently all torn up  
TG: no :(  
TG: oh my god kanaya noooo  
TG: nooo this isnt okay  
TG: wait  
TG: what  
TG: OMG does this mean were gonna have a baby!!!  
TG: family baby omg omg omg  
TG: yeah i guess  
TG: why would that matter  
TG: its not like were gonna be happy about it i mean were all hells of recessive   
TG: it wont look like us  
TG: it wont act like us  
TG: and its not a weird xenohomo lovechild its rose being a shitty ass sister and a worse girlfriend  
TG: dave cmon we have to see the poisitives!!!  
TG: positives   
TG: yeah positives there are so many goddamn positives i can see  
TG: just dont go spreadin this okay  
TG: yeah yeah i wont tell anyone  
TG: my lips are zealed  
TG: sealed  
TG: zzzziiiiiiiip  
TG: cool  
\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG] at 16:02 --  


 

\-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began pestering timeausTestified [TT]  at 16:04 --  
TG: dirk  
TG: diiiirk  
TG: dirk  
TT: What, Roxy.   
TG: lol @ u still being in the ass end of nowhere  
TG: South Pacific Islands aren’t exactly “nowhere”.   
TG: lol   
TG: w/e when will u be home  
TG: theres big news  
TT: A few months. No later than December, so yes, we will be home for the holidays.   
TG: ur gonna miss it then  
TT: Miss what?  
TG: rose is hvaing a bb  
TG:*having  
TG: omg arent you excited!!!!!!  
TG: omg omg omg omg  
TG: family baby   
TT:...   
TT: What.   
TT: The.   
TT: Fuck.  
TT: You’re telling me trolls and humans can reproduce now?  
TG: no they cnant :(  
TT: So Rose cheated on Kanaya.   
TG: yeah... :(  
TG: but family bb!!  
TG: new strilalonde do u think itll have purple eyes  
TT: This is actually kind of serious.   
TT: Do I need to come home?  
TG: no no no no  
TG: were ok here dirky u have fun with ur jungle boyfriend  
TT: We are here on work, you know.  
TG: pshh yeah work uh huhhhh  
TG: anyways ig u can tell jake but dont tell anyone else  
TG: its supposed to be a secret  
TG: shhhh  
TG: i mean i am gonna tell john  
TT: Yes, I am sure the secret will be well maintained when Rose expands like the Hindenburg.   
TG: dont be mean!!  
TG: go back to ur beach lovin  
TT: With pleasure.   
TT: Take care.  
TG: yeah u 2  
\-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] ceased pestering timeausTestified [TT]  at 16:31 --  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little short this time, but NEW CHARACTERS! I haven't decided how a big a role everyone is going to play- but there will be a role.
> 
> If you have suggestions for scenes/things you'd like to see in the upcoming chapters, please tell me!!! I'll consider everything!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nausea strikes back!

You would groan, but you don’t think you have the energy for it. When was the last time you were able to keep anything down? It seems like you haven’t eaten in days, your eyes sunken down into your skull, your pants leaving far too much wiggle room for comfort. You’re supposed to be gaining weight, right? Not losing it. And yet, here you are, five pounds lighter and about a thousand times sicker. 

Maybe you won’t have this baby after all. Maybe you’re too sick- too stressed, too tired- to make it work. Maybe it’s already gone, and you’re just waiting for the remains to be expelled. What a horrifically morbid thought that is. You lay down on the bathroom floor, breathing heavily through your mouth. Pull it together, Lalonde, you think. Just get up. You haul up to your knees, the world spinning blearily around you.

And the next thing you know, you’re in the car. It’s moving quite fast, and you glance over to Kanaya. Her mouth is held tight, her hands gripping the steering wheel as though it is her only possible lifeline. Everything’s okay, Kanaya, what’s your problem? You try to say something coherent, but your mouth just doesn’t seem to be in alignment with your brain in the intelligible speech department. You roll your head to the side, glance out the window, the landscape blurring and shifting in your field of view. 

She parks the car with a start, walking over to your side and opening the door.

“Rose let us go inside come now.” She tries to grab your hands and you bat her away, making a dissatisfied noise. You’re a perfectly capable woman, even if you feel like death, and even if you have no clue where you are. “Do not fight me. Come.” Your hands are being grabbed and she’s not being gentle in the slightest, yanking you up to your feet. You stumble, put your hand on the side of the car for support. She’s there in an instant, letting you wrap an arm around her shoulders and you’re being half carried and half dragged into the emergency room, which is not somewhere you need to be. What is going on? You’re just nauseated, that’s all. Nothing special. You’re fine. Your eyes go out of focus for a second, and you let your mind drift off. This is ridiculous and as soon as one of the nurses gets one look at you they will declare you perfectly healthy and send you home and you have the world’s most overprotective girlfriend. 

“Ms Lalonde, how many weeks has it been since your last menstural period?” You’re being laid down. What? When did this happen? Why is there a woman talking to you?

“Ten?” You say, blinking at the bright lights on the ceiling. “I’m really okay, my girlfriend is just an inconsolable worrier.” 

“That’s fine,” the woman says, jotting down notes on her clipboard. “When was the last time you were able to keep any fluids down? Would it be okay if we gave you some now?” 

“A couple days ago. Two, three? Four? And thank you for the offer. Do you have tea?” You have no idea but she expects something from you and dammit you are not going to disappoint. Your hand stings and you flinch, looking over and there is another person, where are they all coming from, with a needle in your hand. 

“Do you smoke or drink? Take drugs, prescription or recreational?” This is ridiculous line of questioning. This is a ridiculous situation. You’re fine!

“Drink. I haven’t been drinking now, of course.” Lie. You were drunk the night you realized your period was late. Cold on your hand and then cold in your veins and there’s a bag of something being hung above you, drip-drip-dripping down into the tube that has been apparently jammed into you. “And take vitamins.” She nods and you shuffle up on the bed, pulling your knees close to your chest. There, much more comfortable. You close your eyes, answering the rest of her questions in a monotone, tired and dizzy and finally comfortable enough to get some sleep.

When you come to, Kanaya’s there, holding your hand and looking decidedly upset. Her fingers tap you, being very careful to stay far away from your center. 

“Rose are you doing okay?” Her voice is strained. 

“I’m feeling,” you pause, “much better, actually. Thank you for the concern.” And kind of like you need to pee, but that’s a matter to deal with in a moment. “How long was I asleep?”

“Just over an hour.” She stares at you, her eyes focused on your mouth, your nose, anything but your eyes. “The doctor said you were severely dehydrated and that they want to look at the baby to make sure everything is okay at least that is what I have gleaned from the admittedly brief conversation I had.”

“Do they think it could be in danger?” You shuffle to sit up and Kanaya puts a hand on your chest, urging you back down. 

“I do not know. I think it is a precaution but I do not know.” You nod. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? For something to happen, for you to fail, for this not to be a thing that really is happening in your life. So why does the thought of losing it send a cold shiver down your spine? The tech comes in with canned reassurances, this is all routine, please lift up your shirt, please relax, please don’t flinch when I spread cold jelly on you. She wrangles the machine into life, pressing down on your as of now incredibly unimpressive lower stomach. 

Something changes instantly, like wood stressed until it snaps. Kanaya stares, transfixed, at the screen, the hand holding yours slowing it’s gentle rubs, then stopping altogether. She brings her other hand up to her mouth, holds it there. You turn your head away and she makes a noise, half between a sigh and a chuckle, and cups your cheek. You look. 

It looks like a blob. Like nothing special at all. Well, yes, you can sort of see a head, there, something that might be a limb if you squint. No, there’s another one. Definitely four limbs, then, and a head, and a torso, all small and in grainy black-and-white up on the screen above. How could that be so important to her? To anyone? She seems over the moon, moving in her seat and touching your skin haphazardly, like she almost can’t believe it’s real. Long seconds drip past, Kanaya staring, you trying to decipher the secret to whatever is making her so emotional about this grainy, black and white mass onscreen. You’re already lacking the maternal instinct, it seems. Well, Kanaya has enough to make up for the both of you, if her near-open hysterics at the sight of this lump are any indication. Finally, her reverie breaks and she leans over, catching your lips in a deep, heady kiss. You can feel the beginnings of tears touch your skin and you shush her. The tech seems wholly unimpressed, finishing everything up and leaving without any fuss.

Kanaya stands, runs out of your room and comes back moments later with paper towels. Wordlessly she cleans you off, dipping her head down to kiss your lips every few seconds, like she cannot contain herself, like she will perish if she does not avail herself of you. You smile. It’s a real one, this time, the first real smile in weeks. 

“I am so lucky,” she breathes, and you nearly correct her, nearly remind her that this baby is not lucky, it is misfortunate, but she means it, she really actually means it. “Thank you.” For what? 

“I love you,” you say. It’s been a long time since you said it. It’s been a long time since either of you did. You feel wet on your cheeks, bring your spare hand up and touch your eyes. Oh. You’re crying too. Hormones. It’s definitely the hormones, there’s no way you’re this full of emotion after a month of terse interactions, there’s no way you’d allow yourself to cry in semi-public. It would never happen that you are openly sobbing, draining out the same being fed into your blood. No. It’s not happening. She scoots her seat as close as she can to you, throws her arms around you and cries openly, her body quaking, and you sob, holding her head and petting her hair, her neck. 

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” It’s her mantra, and you will take it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thank you to everyone for being patient! For those of you who don't follow my blog, I'm in some pretty difficult college courses right now. I still want to work on this fic! But I won't be able to keep the consistent every Saturday update schedule for a while to come. Thank you for reading, as always!  
> (Please be gentle with this chapter I wrote it over the course of three weeks I am so sick of looking at it)


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